He made the decision for her.
His voice, deep and penetrating, was whisper soft. “How did you do it?”
Confusion rode into her on a steed of anxiety, and quickly dismounted. “Whatareyou talking about?”
“Don’t play ignorant with me, Miss Edwards. How did you do it? How did you come into my head, into my dreams, and turn me upside down?” As he spoke, he took two steps toward her, the air around him pulsing with energy, a tension so heady she nearly stepped back. She’d never experienced this level of apprehension before. She planted her feet to keep from fleeing as her brain commanded her to.
“Again, I ask, what are you talking about? Keep in mind this isn’t the first time you’ve accused me of something without evidence.”
Logan hesitated.Evidence showed, much to his astonishment, that she was a time traveler. And an exotic dancer. A beautiful woman with a stunning body who removed her clothes and danced enticingly for men. Aroused them and played with their desires like a siren who sang an alluring song of sex and infinite pleasure, calling out to them with her movements. Movements he’d seen in a dream.
Clenching his jaw, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and focused on getting answers.
Pointing toward the chaise, he said, “Please, won’t you have a seat? I would like to explain.”
She narrowed her eyes and took a seat.
He sat on the couch across from her. “A fortnight ago, I visited a Romany camp near the eastern border of my property. I wanted information on livestock thefts, but their elder couldn’t provide anything useful.” Although, she did say something that still haunted his memory,“Chosen, and unprepared.”He didn’t know what the old woman meant, but the words moved over him with an eerie tickling on his skin.
Despite the sickening feeling in his belly, he continued. “I left the camp and returned home where I retired for the night.” Expelling a breath, he plunged forward. “That’s when it happened.”
Miss Edwards’ eyes widened. “Whenwhathappened?” She sat forward, her hands planted on either side of her thighs, her nails digging furrows into the upholstery.
Fighting back a smile at her strangely erotic eagerness, he lowered his voice to a deeper, softer timbre. “This unexplainable...chill overwhelmed me, and I lost consciousness.”
She crept closer to the edge of the chaise, and her hands slid up to rest on her thighs. Apparently, the further he got in his explanation, the nearer she got to the edge of her seat, and the further her hands would climb. A wicked thought crossed his mind then; how high would her hands rise if his story kept going? Over her breasts? Would she fiddle with the fabric teasingly taut over her delicious cleavage? Maybe she’d raise her arms above her head and cry out in excitement when his story met completion? When his story was done, would she be donein?
God, this is too much.
He wished he could adjust his aching cock without her very-aware glare catching the movement. His thoughts grew wickeder. If her gaze slid to his erection, would she blush, smile coyly, slide from her seat, and crawl over to him on her hands and knees? Would she place her hands on the placket of his trousers and pop each button from its hole? Move the fabric aside, and reach in? Take his throbbing cock in her hands, and gasp admiringly? Would her gasps be followed by hungry moans as she slowly slid the creaming head of his cock into the warm, tightness of her perfect mouth?
His breaths came in hard, fast gulps. Holy hell. He was rock hard, and he had no one to blame but himself. His erection, once possible to hide, was now a raging bulge in his lap. If she didn’t notice, it would be a miracle.
With a deliberateness born of tension, he revealed every moment of his dream, relaying every detail, color, sense, and erotic movement.
When he paused, she swallowed. As expected, her hands climbed from their perch on her thighs to rest on her belly, which showcased her tiny waist and plump, ample breasts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The duke morphed before Haven. His black eyes, once filled with accusation and anger, flashed fire and undisguised desire. The temperature in the room rose from warm and inviting, to searing hot and arousing, and the duke’s tense body throbbed with inaction, his powerful legs twitching.
Biting back a groan, she shifted.
The duke's eyes narrowed at her movements, his piercing gaze straying not a single centimeter from her. It held her ensnared—and she was a willing captive.
“Sounds like a very...stimulatingdream,” she rasped.
He quirked an eyebrow and a glint of wicked humor flashed through his eyes. “It was.”
“So, um, what does it have to do with me?” She was scared to ask, but something akin to a ravenous craving gnawed at her. She couldn't help it.
Her heart stuttered in her chest when he stood. All six plus feet of him towered over her. She sucked in a fortifying breath, and peered into the pools of black lust beneath his dark brows. Craning her neck, she watched as he dragged his fingers through his hair. When his hands fell to his sides, she followed them. Air froze in her chest when her eyes caught the large and growingbulge in his trousers. She gasped, and rose to her feet, nearly falling back when her calves hit the edge of the cushion.
He grabbed her shoulders, and husked, “It was you. The woman in my dream was you.”
Desire boiled in her chest. He dreamed about her?
He slanted his head to the side, his face holding a look of amazement.
